


Lie To Me

by cecilantro



Series: 100 Days Of Ficlets [8]
Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Hurt, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-06
Updated: 2018-03-06
Packaged: 2019-03-28 00:39:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13892574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cecilantro/pseuds/cecilantro
Summary: Does anybody ever see if Mollymauk is okay?





	Lie To Me

**Author's Note:**

> "I'm going to sit, and sip this, and grin, and very silently have a mild nervous breakdown about what just went down"
> 
> Seriously though is molly ok

“Has anybody checked to see if Mollymauk is okay?” Caleb leaned against the doorjamb between the bar and the stairs to the 'inn' section of The Leaky Tap. He had his arms folded, combing his eyes across his companions.  
Sans Molly, obviously.  
Beau froze in place, mug of whatever alcohol she was engaging in tonight paused an inch from her lips, the liquid inside lapping against the edge precariously. Her eyes crept to meet Caleb’s, and she lowered the mug slightly,  
“Why would we? He just said he was tired.” And she shrugged, “Not everyone is as squishy as you, Caleb.”  
It was a jest, but Caleb frowned anyways.  
“Squishy though I may be, physical health isn’t everything, Beau.” he said, slow, firm. Beau, jaded, frowned back at him. She opened her mouth to give a retort, and was stopped by Fjord placing a hand on her arm gently,  
“He seemed a’right, Caleb, we didn’t think it would be worth troublin’ him.”  
“He’s the one that looks after us.” Nott piped up brightly, and Caleb caught the glint of her hands as she placed Fjord’s flagon back on the table. It had probably been full about ten seconds prior, but if the quick screw of the top of Nott’s flask was anything to go by… not any more.  
“Yes, and that is what worries me.” Caleb adjusted his shoulder so he could lean against the door a little harder, pointing at Nott with eyebrows raised, “Did you not see him after the, after the first night with the Gnolls?”  
“Eh. Dude’s a mess.” Beau shrugged and finally took her well-deserved swig of her drink.  
“Hey,” Caleb’s tone bordered on angry, “Fuck you.”  
Beau raised an eyebrow from behind her mug.  
“If you’re so intent on convincin' us somethin’s wrong, loverboy, why don’t _you_ go an’ check on him?” Her tone was flat. There was no room for retort. “I’m gonna stay here and deal with my problems like normal people- by getting _stupid fuckin’ drunk_ and kissing like three people.”  
She glanced around the bar as Caleb turned in a wave of coat and hair and disdain.  
“Looking for Yasha?” Jester leaned over to tease her, eyes sparkling with mischief. Beau took a moment to study her, gauging how far she could stretch and work the joke.  
“How d’you know I ain’t looking for _you?_ ”  
And that was the last Caleb heard before he was taking the stairs two at a time and heading to Molly’s room.  
  
Caleb tapped the door lightly.  
He didn’t realise he had a particular rhythm, or that Mollymauk had memorised the way his knuckles struck a surface and the way he did it.  
“Caleb?” Molly called from inside. He didn’t need to ask. He knew.  
“Yes. Are you alright?”  
Shuffling from inside, and the door cracked open. Caleb could see purple curls, and knew that Molly was leaning with his shoulder jammed between the door and the wall. He didn’t reply, though.  
Caleb eyed the gap, took a moment to listen carefully to Molly, the pattern of his breathing, each hitch, the stuffy nature. He made a decision, “Can I come in?”  
Molly’s breath stopped for a few seconds, almost as though he was thinking. He stepped away from the door, left it open, and Caleb took it as an invitation.  
He slid in and closed the door behind him.  
Molly’s coat was folded on a chair, a single lantern was lit, and Molly was sitting on the bed staring at… nothing. Into nothing, the abyss, and by the haunted look on his face, the abyss was staring back.  
Caleb moved across the room as fast as his tired body would let him, until he stood at Molly’s side, and he suddenly found himself unsure of what to do. Uncertainty filled him.  
Molly didn’t move.  
How did Molly deal with _him_ , Caleb considered, when he had his relapse?  
Caleb stilled the shake in his hands, took a breath, and kissed Molly’s forehead.  
Molly burst into tears. “Caleb,” his tone was desperate, begging, “Caleb, _please_ .” and he pawed and clutched and dragged at the front of Caleb’s jacket, at his arms, until Caleb fell to the bed as he lowered himself, and Molly was against him and sobbing and Caleb was… helpless. He did the only thing that he could. He wrapped an arm around Molly tightly, and let the tiefling sob himself dry into his shoulder.  
They stayed together for a while after Molly’s hiccuping and sobbing subsided, and though his grip was less frantic, he held Caleb still. Caleb, for his part, did nothing to shift his arm or his tiefling, just focused his breathing, his face half pressed into Molly’s hair. “It’s okay,” he found himself mumbling, “It’s okay, we’re both messes. It’s okay.”  
“Caleb.” Molly’s voice was a croak, and there was no follow up. He said the wizard’s name as though affirming he was there, it was real. Caleb’s hand shifted down to Molly’s hip, he felt his fingers slip slightly under the shirt and press straight against skin, feeling the curve of Mollymauk’s bones. The touch was electric and fire, freeze burn in the pain of the moment. Caleb pressed another kiss to Molly’s forehead, with no idea of what to do or how to fix the broken light in Molly’s eyes.  
“Thank you.” Molly wheezed at him, each syllable sounding strained and hard, so far from Molly’s usual silky voice that it alone was a concern.  
“Would you like to talk about it?” Caleb asked, low and soft. He felt Molly freeze for a split second, and then he nodded.  
They sat up, apart.  
“Please don’t take your hand off of me.” Molly pleaded. Caleb set his hand on his knee, and Molly placed one of his own hands over Caleb’s. His eyes were fixed firmly on the glint of Caleb’s buckle, on the holster for his books, and Caleb watched his throat move a few times before he was able to speak.  
“We’ve been _so fucking close to dying_ .” He managed, “I’ve never been this scared.”  
There were more tears. Caleb moved to brush them away, gentle, terrified the tiniest touch would break his tiefling like the most fragile glass.  
“Hey, hey, hey,” he stuttered out, “It’s… Mollymauk, do you want my comfort, or my honesty.”  
Molly looked at him, square in the face.  
“Lie to me.” He said.  
Caleb leaned in and kissed him, gentle, loving, all the truth he couldn’t put to words at that moment and more still. He drew back and stroked his thumb over Molly’s cheek, nodding slowly.  
“Everything,” He said, “Is going to be okay.

**Author's Note:**

> Fun facts:  
> Back when my moirail and i were close and also officially moirails (yes, im homestuck garbage, fight me, etc) we used to have this thing that if i felt lost and scared i could go to him and say  
> "Lie to me"  
> and he would say  
> "Everything is going to be okay"
> 
> So have THIS MESS im not even sorry about how horrible this is


End file.
